September 28, 2015

The fight to eradicate the Tash’Ba breeding stations continues, with
spunky Commander Berit Turner and his Nadisc mate, Tom, in the thick of
things. Sometimes it seems as though they’ll never locate and destroy
them all. And there’s always the fear that the Tash’Ba have something
else, something worse—if that’s even possible—lurking ahead.

As if things aren’t bad enough, Berit’s less than stellar past is
threatening to bite him in the ass, and they’ve received alarming new
information. The Tash’Ba queen needs to use Earth as a place to hatch
the egg of her successor. And if what she says is true, the new queen
will be even more voracious and cruel than her predecessor.

Berit, along with his team—Tom, Carson, Niyara, and Fleur—must do
everything in their power to stop her. If they fail, Earth will be lost
forever.

September 26, 2015

Please note that I've deactivated my Facebook account, so I won't receive any messages from there. I'm still available on Twitter, here on my blog or via e-mail but something had to give and I decided leaving Facebook would be the best option for me.

My story Hunter's Hunt will cease to be available after September 30th.

September 25, 2015

Twelve years of friendship turns into
something more when Eva Porter’s two best friends confess their love for her
after a heated night between the sheets.Her only dream over the years had been to be the woman for Max and
Sam.Living a ménage lifestyle was new
to her, but she knew, deep down, that this was what she needed.Eva soon realizes it will take two men to
love her completely.

When a threat to Eva’s life presents
itself, Max and Sam step up security around their home to keep Eva from being
harmed, but the man who wants her dead will stop at nothing to take her
out.The suspect will risk everything,
even death, to take Eva away from the two men sworn to protect her.

Max left the
station with the two files in hand.It
was close to mid-morning and the evidence from the storms the night before
dotted yards and roadsides on his way back to his property just outside the
city limits.Small trees were down and
although there was no tornado, there was some wind damage to homes close to
his.

Thankfully, it
looked like they only lost a few limbs on the large oak trees in the sprawling
five acres of his front yard of the property.So, it was no surprise to see Eva and Sam spending their Sunday morning
cutting and hauling away limbs to a pile to be burned later.

Max stopped on
the long gravel driveway up to the house.Eva was tossing limbs into a small trailer that was being pulled behind
one of the four-wheelers they owned.Sam
approached Max’s SUV, swiping away dirt from his cheek.

“Hey,” Max said
when Sam was close enough to hear him.“Eva doesn’t need to be using that shoulder.”

“Tell her that,”
Sam laughed and hooked a thumb over his shoulder.“Stubborn, remember?”

Max noticed how
Eva was lifting and huffing with a heavy limb.Her long brown hair was pulled up into a tight ponytail and she was
bundled up in jeans, boots and one of the hoodies that Sam had bought for her
the day before.After the storm had
rolled through, the temperatures dropped quickly and they’d be expecting snow
in the next few days.

“I’ll go in and
build a fire,” Max said, keeping his eyes on Eva’s small body as she worked.She really was beautiful.

“Okay, we’ll
finish up and meet you at the house,” Sam winked.

“Hey,” Max said
suddenly, stopping Sam from turning away.

“Yeah,” Sam replied.

“How is she this
morning?” Max asked, worried.Would she
panic and run?

Theresa
is a mother of two and the wife of a retired Air Force Master Sergeant.After seventeen years traveling the country,
moving from base to base, the family has settled their roots back in Theresa’s
home town of Olive Branch, MS, where she enjoys her time with family and old
friends.

After
almost three years of managing a retail bookstore, Theresa has gone behind the
scenes to write romantic stories with flare. She enjoys spending her
afternoons daydreaming of the perfect love affair and takes those ideas to
paper.

September 24, 2015

Who's
more dangerous – a stripper, an assassin, or a serial killer?
The Stripper Ripper is stalking the streets of New York City, preying on male
strippers, and the press is making mincemeat of a helpless police force.

In desperation, the police refer the serial killer's case to the Slayers, a
team of enhanced, undercover super soldiers. The commander of the Slayers puts
his team on the streets to watch over the Ripper's favorite targets.

One of these targets is Micah, a twink stripper and a desirable sub. Micah's
baby sitter is one of the newest members of the Slayers, Sorren, as
cold-blooded an assassin as they come, and the last person you'd expect to
harbor feelings for his charge.

True to form, Sorren is as surprised as anyone at his new infatuation, but
Micah is hiding something. Will Micah learn to trust his protector, or is he
destined to be the next victim on the Stripper Ripper's list?

Excerpt: Stalked by H.C.
Brown

Chapter 1

Club
Surrender, New York

As the
commander of the Slayers, Delano Briggs had his hands full controlling a unit
of nano-enhanced super soldiers in a constant state of pissed. He leaned back
in his office chair, glaring at the brooding form of Sorren, and cleared his
throat. The six-seven hunk of muscle-bound “don’t fuck with me nasty” stared
right back, unblinking.

Although
Sorren had accepted his new duties without question and his professionalism was
faultless, he couldn’t put a finger on the underlying uneasiness he had for
him. The stripper named Snake from the leather club, Pinkies, had been under
Sorren’s surveillance for ten days and nothing had occurred. The man standing
before him folded thick arms across his broad chest and glared at him with
intimidating menace. He would have to come down heavy to keep this alpha with
cybernetic enhancements in line. “Report.”

Sorren
placed both large hands on the table and pushed a long straight nose one inch
from Delano’s face.

“How
long do you expect me to remain sane on butterfly duty?”

“I
said report, soldier.” Delano pushed to his feet then noticed Rhys, his second
in command, move into the room and take a defensive stance.

Sure,
Sorren was a loose cannon, but then nobody walked away from capture by Middle
Eastern extremists without repercussions. His captors had not been able to
brainwash him or retrieve any information by torture. His nanos had kept his
secrets safe and his body in peak condition, but Sorren was suffering from
three years of pent-up crazy. The nano enhancements did that to a man left
alone with only his palm for company. Delano lifted his chin and repeated the
order. To his relief, Sorren straightened and narrowed his unusual blue gaze.

“Nothing
to report. The butterfly does his act then goes home. Guys hang around him looking
for a little action but as far as I can tell, he isn’t interested. Although, he
is a nervous little shit. On stage, the club bills him as Snake but his friends
call him Micah, which fits him but it’s not the name you gave me. I think he is
hiding his past.” He jerked a thumb over one shoulder toward Rhys. “Tell your
boy to stand down unless he wants me to drag his ass downstairs to my dungeon.”
He smirked. “I need a heavy scene, sending me to watch strippers every night
makes me overheat – ah, sir.”

“I
don’t do switch play and if I did
you’re certainly not my type.” Rhys grabbed Sorren’s arm and spun him around to
face him. “Why don’t you go and fuck your butterfly, then you won’t be
loitering outside his apartment with a hard-on all night.”

Sorren’s
wide mouth twitched at one corner then curled into a sadistic smile.

“Have
you seen my five-feet-two eyes of blue?” He grasped his package. “I’d break him
in half. Nah, you’ll do just fine, but just so you don’t get your panties in a
twist later, you should know, I don’t do cool-down cuddles.”

“I’m
bonded to Dylan and you fucking know it, but if you wanna fight, I’d be happy
to grind your face into the floor anytime. Here we fight by Slayer rules,
which, as you are the new kid in town, means no rules, asshole.”

Before
Delano blinked, Sorren had locked one hand around Rhys’s throat.

“I
like no rules just fine. Do I get to fuck you when I win?”

In
a flash, Rhys cupped Sorren’s balls in his bionic hand and the color drained
from the new recruit’s face.

“Wanna
play?” Rhys grinned in a flash of perfect white teeth.

Delano
rounded the table. Both these men could take him apart before taking their next breath and Rhys could crush an
Mk.16 in one hand without taking a breath. “Stand down.” He moved closer and,
standing shoulders braced and feet apart, dropped his voice to a menacing
whisper, a method he employed to get his men’s full attention. “Rhys have you
lost your fucking mind?”

“Nah,
just teaching pretty boy here how we play in my yard.” Rhys dropped his hand and wiped it on his jeans in a
repulsed gesture. “I can’t believe you trust him to guard the strippers, he’s
not safe on the outside without a leash.”

“Sit
down, both of you.” Delano leaned one hip on his desk and glared at them. “We
run a club and the strippers who work here are good for business. These murders
are bringing all strip joints under scrutiny and I’m sure you both understand why we don’t want eyes on
Club Surrender. It would put the entire unit in danger. The cops have zip on
the Stripper Ripper, no DNA, no witnesses, so we’ll have to find him and deal
out justice, Slayer style.” He glared at Sorren. “This means surveillance and
I’ve assigned a man to every local stripper that fits the victims’ profile.” He
glanced at Rhys. “Small, young looking, with dark hair. From the images we were
able to intercept from the local PD database it would seem the Stripper Ripper
has a taste for twinks.”

Rhys
grimaced. “Fuck, that covers fifty percent of the guys who work here and Jay
but somehow I don’t think the fucking Stripper Ripper will be a problem for
him.” He chuckled. “I guess we could throw him out as bait?”

Delano
shook his head. “Not a chance in hell. Jay might be sixty percent cyborg but
I’m not risking anyone until I know who we’re dealing with.” He jerked his chin
toward Sorren. “The murderer is smart, very smart. It’s possible he could be a
kinetic Black Ops rogue, one of Sorren’s old unit or similar. We don’t have
numbers on the soldiers the government nano enhanced but we are aware of at
least twenty enhanced Marines on the government’s ‘kill on sight’ hit list.”

“If
they are from my unit then they’re
some nasty SOBs. I can’t imagine anyone capable of catching them. I just hope they
linked up and are doing much the same as you are here.” Sorren grinned. “My men
are very different from your guys, although Rhys here comes close. Taking into
account your unit’s compassion and adherence to the Special Ops code even
though they screwed you makes me believe they added something special in the
way of crazy to the nanos they shot into my guys.”

“Maybe,
your blood work came back pretty fucked up. Kurt is still running tests. We all
have anger management and sex-drive problems but they enhanced yours tenfold.”
Delano shrugged. “It’s just as well we have Kurt as our doctor. He was on the
first nano experimental team. Although, he has no idea why you carry different levels
of enhancement. To date you are the only man we know of, apart from Jay, who
can use mindspeak over a long distance.”

“Why
didn’t Kurt ask me about mindspeak during the debriefing? Fuck! He wanted to
know how many times I shit a day.” Sorren’s lips quirked into a smile. “The
mindspeak distancing is a technique much the same as the one used to shield
personal thoughts and easily taught. I do hope you’ve kept our mindspeak
ability ‘need to know’ and the enhanced soldiers’ little weapon against Uncle
Sam is still safe?” Sorren gave an exasperated sigh. “FYI, sex is used as a
cooling system. Haven’t you worked that out yet?” He rolled his broad shoulders.
“They didn’t enhance my anger but they did modify my brain chemistry.” His attention
drifted to Rhys then back to him. “You see, I don’t have a conscience. They
turned me into a psychopath – in other words when I kill I don’t give a fuck.
No flashbacks, no regrets.” He rubbed his chin. “They tossed the Slayers on the
trash pile because you fucking care and having feelings puts everyone in the
unit in danger. The doc who treated me said it was a weakness in your nanos the
government couldn’t afford.” He pointed at his face and grimaced. “The bionic
eyes, well they needed soldiers who could switch from daylight to infrared
without night vision goggles and with the ability to record missions.” He
snorted. “I was beaming a vid straight to Black Ops the entire two fucking
years I spent in prison. I had no rights because Uncle Sam didn’t classify me
as human. I was one of many information-collecting drones.” He gave a cynical
bark of laughter. “I’m surprised you found me, let alone got me out.”

Delano met Rhys’s incredulous
stare and connected in secure mindspeak. “Fuck, just how many units are out there?”

“Sorren has been to hell and back.” Rhys grimaced. “I’m not
surprised he’s crazy, but I don’t believe for one minute he has no feelings.
The way he cares for the wellbeing of the stripper he’s watching tells me there
is a man inside, not a machine. But I don’t like him, he is an arrogant SOB.”

Delano
cleared his throat and made a conscious effort to pull back on the
interrogation. “Bret, the electronics expert, picked up your transmission and
we put boots on the ground. Once we got you out of that hellhole, he took over
your video link and faked your execution.” He dropped back into his chair.
“Don’t look so surprised. Everything in the Slayers is ‘need to know’ until you
gain full clearance.” He met Sorren’s disturbing electric blue gaze. The man’s
pupils moved like the lens of a camera, constantly adjusting in a circular
motion.

“Need
to know?” Sorren snorted. “I’m just like you, man. I’ve been here almost a year.
It’s about time you started to trust me.”

“Right
now, I don’t know if you’re working undercover and although we’ve destroyed all
your military tracking devices, we can’t stop you communicating by mindspeak.”
Delano glared at him. “And you will refer to me as ‘sir,’ do you understand,
soldier?”

“What you ‘need to know’ is I’m not doing this
yes, sir, no sir, three fucking bags full shit any longer. I’m not a Marine or part of some pseudo
military service under your command.”

“Yeah, well
actually you agreed to join the Slayers and I didn’t force you to wear our
mark.” Delano indicated to the tattoo of a dollar sign on Sorren’s wrist. “We gave
you a new identity, a job, and a place to stay. Not to mention all the ass you
need to keep cool.” He lifted his chin and glared at him. “Right now it looks
like I made a big mistake taking you into our confidence. I admire a man’s grit
but I sure as hell want to keep control of my unit. Most of us are Black Ops,
Green Berets or mercenaries and prefer a degree of leadership from me. I’m not
running a fucking Sunday school.” He scowled at the arrogant man. “You do know Bret has devised a program to
decommission you? He can take away your special vision, slow your implants,
wipe your memory, and make you almost human again. That’s the only way you
leave here alive, soldier.”

Delano
didn’t miss Sorren’s shudder of disgust. He stared at him, waiting for a reply,
and it was like watching the cogs of an old clock grind into gear. Sure, Sorren
had been alone for a long time and no doubt his art of conversation had become
a little rusty but he’d had long enough to adjust. He would give him time to
consider the situation because he wanted to keep this man in his unit. He’d yet
to see a better specimen of nano enhancement and the doctors in the complex
would learn a great deal from his advanced technology.

Sorren
was magnificent and he could see why he carried the handle “The Reaper” during
his call of duty. He’d selected the moody Adonis for stripper duty in an effort
to calm him down. Sorren was a loner. He’d taken his edge-play domination to
extremes with the house subs and sure wasn’t looking for a cozy relationship.
Rhys had nicknamed him “Shadow Man” because they rarely
saw him in daylight. Sorren stalked the gloom like a phantom of menace. In
fact, the man might just as well hang a sign around his neck with the message,
“I hate everybody” printed in bright red letters. The only time he’d seen him
crack any semblance of a smile was after winning an arm wrestle with Adryck.

He
rolled his shoulders. “Well?”

A
crack of thunder rolled in the distance as if it had come straight from the
flash of disgust on Sorren’s face.

“Your
decommission threats won’t work on me. I have a failsafe reboot on my system.
You’ll have to decapitate me to take me down.” Sorren straightened and his
menacing look flicked over him dismissively. “I understand you integrated the
Fury boys into the unit without making them jump through hoops and yet, I am
one of you,
military – not the fucking enemy. I agreed to do butterfly duty because I want to catch a murderer not because I
plan to inform on the Slayers. If I’d wanted to betray our kind I would have contacted my commander the fucking day I arrived and
neither you nor your cybernetic boy would have been able to stop me.” Sorren
pushed to his feet. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m late. The stripper you
assigned me to protect is due to walk home alone in twenty minutes and it is
twenty-two minutes to his gig.”

Delano
stood and waved him toward the door. “Sure, we’ll talk again in the morning. Do
you have a med kit in the car – just in case?”

Sorren
gave him a curt nod and slipped out the door. He moved like a ghost, not one
sound from his boots echoed on the tiled floor.

“What
new intel do we have on the murders to date?” Rhys drummed his fingers on the
arm of the chair. “I know they’re bloody but there must be something the cops
haven’t disclosed. What has Bret dug up?”

“Nothing,
the murderer is a phantom, he drops out of nowhere, strikes and vanishes. You
mentioned bloody, yeah, but how does a man rip someone apart and not leave one
footprint or one drop of blood?” Delano moved around his desk and sat down.

“Maybe
he’s a vampire.” Rhys gave him a speculative look. “Hey, crazy scientists made us didn’t they? How do we
know they didn’t experiment on cross-species DNA as well and now some guys can
change into bats and fly away?”

“Scent.”
Delano placed the heel of one shit kicker on his desk and tipped back his
chair. “I’ve visited all the crime scenes. I would have smelled a giant bat and
picked up the pheromones of anyone remotely like us. No, I’m pretty sure the
Stripper Ripper is one sick human.”